Silver and Gold
by starry-oblivion
Summary: Hermione is devastated to learn of Snape's betrayal, having vouched for him for all of these years. There is, however, a much more personal hurt that her friends would have never guessed at.  Implied SS/HG.
1. A footnote

**Author's note:** This is a gift for a friend of mine; I had intended for it to be a subtle one-shot piece, but I'm beginning to think that I may be willing to make it a multi-chaptered story (provided I can come up with enough of a plot). Opinions on that matter would be greatly appreciated, as I don't usually write non-canon pairings and want to make sure that they sound in-character (especially Snape, whom I've never written for at all).

The title and chapter heading are references to the song "Silver" sung by David Cook, which has always made me think of these two. It's a good song, so check it out if you don't know it.

Whether you choose to share your opinion or not, I hope you all enjoy it, particularly the friend it's dedicated to.

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><p>She'd been caught unaware when it happened.<p>

From the bedroom, Hermione heard three distinctive knocks on the front door, and she froze in her packing. It had been a long time since she'd last heard those low and yet somehow reverberating taps against a door, and she'd been quite certain she would never hear them again after what had happened the previous month. Yet there they were, sounding from her parents' front door on a sunny day in the middle of July. Looking back on it later, she supposed it was the shock of the thing that made it so she left her room as though in a trance, not even thinking to take her wand from her bed.

Standing on the second floor landing, Hermione looked down just in time to see her mother move for the door. She opened her mouth, meaning to call out what was sure to sound like a paranoid warning, but it was as though those oddly familiar knocks put her in some sort of surreal dream state, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

She moved towards the stairs as quickly as she could, and even then it felt like she was wading through a thick marsh. Her mother grasped the doorknob, turned it, opened the door, and gave the unseen visitor a quizzical greeting. It wasn't until she heard the undertone of a dangerously smooth voice that the world began running at normal speed for Hermione, but even so she knew it was too late.

"Mum, no!" In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't the brightest thing to do, calling out a useless exclamation and alerting him to her presence before she could go get her wand. But she couldn't help it; she often panicked in a crisis, and having a Death Eater that she had, until recently, trusted implicitly unexpectedly show up on her doorstep was definitely a crisis.

A flash of red light was what incited Hermione to move, and she turned on her heels and ran for her room. She dimly thought she heard her father's voice, and was that another flash of light reflecting on the wall? Had it been red, or a dreaded green? Hermione didn't know, but she knew that she could do nothing for her parents if she didn't get to her wand before the icy fear in her gut risked immobilizing her.

She'd just passed through the threshold of her bedroom when Severus Snape Apparated a few feet in front of her, making her give out a despairing cry. She came to a stumbling halt and, somehow managing not to trip over her feet, turned around and moved for the door again. It slammed shut in her face, and twisting the doorknob proved that she was sealed in with Professor Dumbledore's murderer. The fact that she hadn't been hit with a Killing Curse yet terrified her, making her wonder what tortures were in store.

Despite her terror, she tried to grasp for all the rage and resentment she felt about Snape's betrayal as she spun around to face him. If he came to tie up loose ends and murder a Mudblood, then he was going to do it while looking her in the eye. After everything that had happened between them, he owed her that much.

A few moments of silence passed before Hermione realized that Snape's wand wasn't drawn. His cold black eyes simply regarded her dispassionately, as though she had called him here and he was waiting to see what the purpose of this visit would be. She searched his features for a hint of an arrogant smirk at having her trapped like this, standing between her and her wand, but there was no emotion on his face. She found herself wondering if his face was even capable of such a thing.

She wanted to say something haughty and proud, showing that she was strong and defiant until the end. Raising her chin a little, Hermione parted her lips slightly, meaning to declare that she'd prefer he just get this over with rather than draw it out with pointless taunts about how she'd been fighting a losing battle anyway. Harry would win this, she wanted to tell him, with or without her. And nothing Snape could do would ever change that.

Instead, what came out was a whispered, "Are my parents…?"

He seemed to consider the question before levelly declaring, "They are merely Stunned. I would gain nothing by their deaths."

"And what do you gain by killing me?"

There was a brief flash in his eyes; could it have been surprise? Resentment? "And what makes you think I intend to kill you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione let out several shuddering breaths that, if she hadn't been so sure of her impending demise or overcome by the horror of the situation, would have been scoffing laughs. "You didn't hesitate to kill Professor Dumbledore."

"I was unaware that you were in the Astronomy Tower that night," Snape replied, the barest hint of sarcasm touching his words. "Were you and Potter both hidden up there together, cataloguing my movements and analyzing my thoughts at the time?"

Hermione made no reply, though her face twisted into an ugly sort of grimace that showed she had no appreciation for her former professor's snide remarks. Several more moments passed, and Hermione tried not to be unnerved by the blank way he continued to look at her. Finally unable to hold it back anymore, she coolly asked, "What do you want, Snape?"

There was an almost imperceptible pause before he murmured, "My, my, such impropriety, Miss Granger. As your name is still listed in the Hogwarts register, wouldn't it be more fitting to call me Professor? Or, if you've read the _Prophet _recently, Headmaster?"

"You will never be my headmaster," she vehemently shot back. She wasn't about to confess that she, Harry, and Ron had no intention of returning to Hogwarts for their final year, although, if she were honest with herself, she wouldn't be surprised if he already knew that. "My headmaster was killed several weeks ago, and you showed your true colors that night when you spoke that horrible curse and left his body to fall and break and…."

Hermione found that her voice nearly cracked, and so she closed her eyes and looked away. She would not cry. She could be dragged off to Voldemort himself, beaten and insulted and tormented and humiliated, and she wouldn't allow herself to cry in the presence of Death Eaters. Especially not _this_ Death Eater. "As for 'Professor,'" she finally whispered, "you gave up that mantle the very same night, in my eyes."

"And what about Severus?"

She flinched, then mentally scolded herself for her reaction. She almost thought she heard something in his low murmur, something that her mind wanted to translate as sadness or desperation, but she wouldn't allow that absurd idea to cloud her mind long enough to take root. She'd already trusted him once. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice….

Bringing forth all of her hatred and rage without touching on the more personal hurt that he was obviously testing, her eyes fastened on his as she hissed, "Severus is _dead_."

Later, she would wonder what he saw in those eyes. If his reaction was based on simply her words and demeanor, or if he'd used Legilimency and gotten a glimpse of the raw emotion behind those words. It was true. Severus, the man she'd known and had come to admire in a way that she never thought she'd admire a professor, was dead to her. All that was left was Snape.

He seemed to stand a little straighter, then, apparently knowing where he stood with her. "I take it your parents will be disappearing without a trace before the start of the school year?"

"You'll never find them."

"Prague."

Hermione blinked, taken aback by this knowledge. She had thought that she'd kept fairly tight-lipped about it, only mentioning it once to Ron in passing. Apparently, that was one more mention than she'd needed. "You clearly aren't the only traitor among our ranks," she said acidly.

"I was never a traitor, Miss Granger," Snape had the audacity to respond. "You claimed that I showed my true colors that night on the Astronomy Tower, but that was a falsehood. My colors were always green and silver, and you of all people should have known this."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about 'me of all people-!'"

""The point I am trying to make is that the Dark Lord has more eyes and ears than even someone as purportedly intelligent as you has taken into account," he carried on, as though he didn't notice her outburst. "You are quite right in wanting to send them away, as they will clearly prove a weak point for you and, in effect, for Potter. Even now, death awaits them in the little cottage you've set aside for them in Prague."

A cold chill passed over Hermione at these words. So this was it. She knew that her parents would somehow be used against her, and she had no fanciful ideas that their lives would be spared regardless of whether or not she did whatever Snape directed her to do next. They were Muggles, after all, and useless. She, on the other hand, was intelligent and had a direct pipeline to the Boy Who Lived. They could overlook the fact that she was a Mudblood long enough to attempt to send her on an errand. All three Grangers were going to die either way. She only wished she'd gotten the chance to say her farewells to Harry and the Weasleys, and to apologize to her parents for not getting them out quickly enough.

Still, there was a chance that she could buy herself at least a few moments to hear Snape's proposition, and perhaps get word out to the Order before he realized that she wouldn't betray Harry. "What exactly do you propose I do to make sure that doesn't happen?"

"Don't send them to Prague."

The response was so simple that Hermione didn't know what to make of it. There had to be more to it than that, and she suddenly had the sinking sensation that he was going to tell her that her parents would be kept in a dungeon where Voldemort himself would personally make them curse bringing her into the world, unless she did as he instructed her to do. "Go on."

Snape raised a single eyebrow. "I wouldn't imagine you would want me telling you where to send them. That would defeat the purpose of hiding them, would it not?" Seeing that Hermione was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, his face took on its former blankness. "I do hope you weren't under the impression that I've come all this way in an attempt to coerce you to do our bidding lest your parents are subjected to unspeakable horrors. The Dark Lord is no fool, nor am I. I have been giving him reports on Potter and his two confidantes for years. Weasley, no doubt, can be manipulated with the proper push on his insecurities, but not nearly enough to prove useful. You, on the other hand, have no such insecurities, despite your much more impressive aptitude. You cannot be swayed or bought. Your allegiance can only be earned, and no one knows this more than I."

"Is _that_ what you were doing?"

Once again, Snape glossed over this bitter comment. "It will not be enough to merely send your parents out of the country, as you will undoubtedly feel the need to contact them and let them know you are safe. You must get them out of Europe, preferably someplace populated enough so that they may be lost in a crowd and yet remote enough to make tracking them more trouble than it's worth. You must also completely erase the temptation to correspond with them; I suggest modifying their memories."

"Make them forget that there's a war?" Hermione incredulously asked. "So they're not on the defensive and make it _that_ much easier to advertise their whereabouts to the wrong people?"

"Make them forget they have a daughter." The comment hung in the air for a moment, Snape taking no apparent relish in Hermione's dumbfounded expression. His following words were low, solemn, and almost sympathetic. "Their lives would be in far less jeopardy if they did not know you were part of it."

"Impossible," Hermione responded crisply, wondering why it sounded as though Snape was trying to help her. "I've never done even a basic Memory Charm in my life. Attempting to conduct something so drastic may have unspeakable consequences." In truth, she was fairly certain she could do it, if she studied memory modification charms long enough, though to what extent was anyone's guess. However, she certainly wasn't going to tell Snape this. The less he knew about her and her family, the better.

Snape studied her, his black eyes feeling as though they were boring into her very soul, searching for the truth. She'd never managed to be exceptional at Occlumency, even though she'd attempted to learn a bit the year before, and so she looked away from him, hoping to escape the worst of it by not keeping eye contact. After seeming to decide that she was telling the truth, he said, "Then I shall do it."

Shocked, Hermione stared at him as he moved to leave the room, and she instinctively backed up against the door, meaning to block his way. She knew that she was virtually defenseless without her wand, but she wasn't going to simply stand by and allow a Death Eater to brainwash her parents. "You've done enough damage."

"Stand aside, Miss Granger."

"I won't let you hurt them!"

"Move aside."

"You'll have to kill me, first!"

And her insides seemed to freeze as he glared at her for a moment before raising his wand. She tensed up, but she did not flinch. She would be proud to know that even when facing what she believed to be certain death, she held fast to her priorities and never backed down. "_Petrificus Totalus_."

Immediately, Hermione's body went rigid and she began to slide stiffly towards her right. Much to her surprise, Snape grabbed her about the shoulders and gently set her down on the floor. Though she could no longer see him as she instinctively tried to fight through the impossible paralysis, she could hear him unlocking her door and stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Hermione's eyes moved frantically about what little of her room she could see. Crookshanks wasn't around, and she couldn't Summon her wand while under a Full Body-Bind Curse. Straining her ears, she struggled to pick up Snape's voice from the first floor, wondering what he was doing to her parents and whether the spell could be reversed later. He didn't honestly expect her to believe that he would send her parents off somewhere safe, did he?

Much more quickly than she would have believed, Snape was back in the room and crouching before her. "You will find your mother on the living room couch," he told her, "and your father seated at the dining room table. They are in the receptive stages of a massive memory modification, which is the most difficult part of the process to get correct. In the event that you can't bring yourself to do it, I have already implanted the idea that they have no children and no intentions of starting a family at any point in the near future. You will go downstairs and you will tell each of them what their new names are, where they will be traveling, and fabricate a very thorough history for them, and you will not do anything foolish, such as use your mother's maiden name or other easily traceable information. Once you are done, you will conclude the charm, put them into a deep sleep, quickly and quietly pack the remainder of your things, and leave this place for good. You will not return, you will not make contact, you will not even _think_ about your parents until the war is over, and only then if it has ended in your favor. I hope this has all been understood, because I don't enjoy repeating simple directives."

With that, he lifted the curse and stood, taking a step back so Hermione could collect herself. Not liking the idea of lying by his feet, she hastily made her way up, brushing herself off as she gaped at him. "What did you _really_ do to them?"

Snape stared at her for some time before replying, "Miss Granger, whatever you might think of me now, you should know quite well that I don't have a use for-"

"_Stop telling me what I should know!_"

She hadn't meant for the words to come out, and she certainly hadn't intended for them to be yelled at the top of her lungs. Apparently, Snape hadn't anticipated such a reaction either, as he blinked at her in shock.

"Two months ago, I knew I trusted you," she told him, no longer able to keep back the pain. "I knew that you were a good man, a misunderstood man, and I knew that I was getting along better with you than I was my two best friends. I knew that you respected me every bit as much as I respected you, and I knew that you, like the rest of the Order, would willingly die for Dumbledore or for Harry if it became necessary. So don't you dare stand there and tell me about what I should know about you after what you've done. I know nothing, and after everything that's happened, I don't care to know."

Hermione stood there, her hands clenched into fists at her sides to help minimize the shaking. The world started wavering in front of her, and she knew that tears were threatening to fall, and she reminded herself of her vow to never shed a tear in front of a Death Eater. Especially, as her mind continued to relay, _this_ Death Eater.

At length, Snape took a single step towards her, his face still an unreadable mask. Hermione took pride in the fact that she hadn't flinched or retreated. He was still standing between her and her wand; he still had the significant advantage.

"We both seem to have gotten in over our heads, Hermione."

It all happened so quickly that Hermione would need to replay it several times in her mind before she got the sequence of events right. First came the quiet, almost mournful words, then came the impression that he seemed to actually be showing a sign of remorse. And then came her name. Her given name, leaving his lips. After what he'd done to Dumbledore, to the Order, to _her_, he had the _gall_ to refer to her as a peer. There was a brief pause, then, an interlude during which she was sure her intent was clear and he could have stopped her, if he so wished. Instead, he merely stood there as the palm of her hand firmly connected with his face, leaving an angry red handprint against his pallid complexion.

He stared at her as dispassionately as ever, watching her breathe hard with resentment and loathing and shock and terror. She knew he could see the fear in her eyes, she knew that he could see her wondering if she'd be able to push past him fast enough to get to her wand and defend herself from some retaliation, and she knew that he was quite as aware as she was that he could kill her with a lazy flick of his wand before she even built up the momentum to dive for her bed. And so, for what felt like the hundredth time since she first heard his distinctive knocking upon her front door, Hermione Granger waited patiently for death.

But death did not visit her that day; Severus Snape merely turned on the spot and Disapparated, leaving her with a strange feeling of relief and regret.


	2. A Distant Memory

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the delay between chapter updates; it took me a while to decide whether to continue this, and then a while longer to actually write it up. Hope you enjoy it, despite how long it took. :)

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><p>Hermione took a deep breath before she managed to build up the courage to knock on the door.<p>

Sixth year had just begun, and more than a few things had become clear to her over the summer. For starters, Harry was still reeling from Sirius' death, that much was obvious. He was sullen and somewhat more secretive, and it made her worry over him. Ron seemed to notice it too, which brought him closer to Hermione. Nice as that was, it didn't really do much to help Harry, nor did it assist with what was going on with the war.

And then, he received news from Dumbledore, something about 'private lessons.' They didn't know what that meant, but Hermione was concerned about the fact that Harry hadn't done very well with his Occlumency lessons, never mind advancing to whatever Dumbledore had to teach him. Both Harry and Ron thought she was being unnecessarily apprehensive, and thought that she'd long since dropped the subject. Of course, given where she currently was, that last bit was far from the truth.

"Enter."

Trying not to cringe a little at the sound of that voice, Hermione opened the door, peering into the distastefully depressing office. It was dark, the walls lined with jars that were likely filled with things that she didn't need to think about. She didn't know why he insisted on keeping his office in the dungeons when he was now a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, but she knew better than to ask him any personal questions, especially given the quick glare he shot her over the tip of his black quill.

"I trust there is a reason for your visit, Miss Granger."

"Yes, Professor-"

"Then kindly get to it rather than take in every detail of my office as though you mean to write a thoroughly extensive chapter on it in your memoirs later in life." Slashing what was likely a pitiful mark across the parchment he was grading, he reached for the next essay on the pile to his left and explained, "As you can see, I have other matters that need my attention."

Throat dry as she faced down the only professor who had ever made her feel timid and unsure, Hermione needed a moment to remember her exact phrasing. She'd planned out this meeting since dinner, and she knew that if things didn't go just right, there was no way he would agree to what she asked of him. "I… I came to ask if you would teach me Occlumency, sir."

The scratching sound of his quill ceased in mid-critique as he took in her words. Trying not to shift uncomfortably, Hermione clasped her hands behind her back to keep her posture straight and sure. She knew that if he saw any weakness in her, he would only send her away with a snide insult and leave it at that.

"And _why_, precisely, would I do such a thing, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice a low, calculated level of smoothness that could make even Hermione second-guess everything she'd ever known. He set his quill down and cast her a considering glance as he said, "Occlumency is an advanced art; you surely cannot expect to even be introduced to it until your final year."

"You were giving Harry lessons," Hermione started, before he interrupted her.

"And even the Golden Boy himself couldn't master it," he replied with a tired roll of his eyes.

"Because his heart wasn't in it," she insisted. "Part of him was scared to lose that connection with Voldemort." Though she noticed that he glared at her at the sound of that name rather than wilt as most wizards did, Hermione steamrollered on. "Not to mention, I think Harry learns better when he feels comfortable with his instructor; that's why he did so well in Defense Against the Dark Arts once Professor Lupin came along. So perhaps, if _I_ mastered Occlumency, I could pass it on to him in a way that makes sense to him."

Seemingly amused, he asked, "You are saying, then, that a teenager would make a better professor than one who gets paid to do it and has twenty years more experience?"

Anticipating this question, Hermione quietly replied, "I'm saying that your teaching methods are not at all compatible with Harry's learning style. _I_ learn well with you, sir. Let me learn so that I may teach."

Looking vaguely disgusted, he replied, "Your bleeding heart sentimentality is wasted here, Miss Granger. You could learn well from a _rock_, and I imagine that this was where you learned your skills of persuasion." Turning back to the parchment in front of him, he said, "Go learn Occlumency from a book, as is your wont."

"Sir, _please_!" Hermione insisted, stepping closer to his desk. "You can't just give up on Harry because it took him some time to learn! If there's no other staff who could teach him-"

"The Headmaster should be more than adequate."

"Then why didn't he teach him last year, rather than send him to you?" she demanded.

At this, Severus Snape rose to his feet, placing both hands on the desk and leaning forward just slightly. His every movement was slow and sure, and that startled Hermione more than the quick, fiery anger she was used to seeing from the likes of, say, Ron. "Miss Granger," he told her, his voice going impossibly deep. "As much as your esteemed hero would appreciate your inexhaustible efforts to force useful information into that wooden brain of his, I do, as I said, have more important things to do. Mr. Potter's case was an exception and not the rule, so don't mistake me for a private tutor, excepting for those hopeless few who need the extra help lest they face expulsion."

Adjusting his cuffs, he glanced down at the parchment at his desk as he added, "Insufferable though you may be, you are no dunce, and so I have no time to waste teaching a perfectly capable student something she should be able to pick up through a bit of hard work."

With a glance downwards, Hermione saw that the paper he'd begun marking was her own, one that she'd turned in just hours before. She hesitated, wondered over whether it was really worth it to irritate Snape while he was grading her essay, and then, proving she was a Gryffindor, went along head on.

"You are obligated to assist the Order in ensuring the fall of the Dark Lord," she said quietly. "That means, despite your distaste, you must help Harry. Dumbledore believes that he needs to learn Occlumency, but he didn't manage it when you tried to teach him. If you believe that I have _any_ chance of getting through to him, then you _have_ to help me help him. If not for Harry's sake, then for the sake of the Order."

Though it was more or less the same speech she had worked out in her head, Snape appeared unmoved. He simply stared at her dispassionately, successfully making her feel like more and more of a fool for thinking that she could convince Professor Snape of anything. Finally, he made his way around the desk, his eyes never leaving hers. Though every instinct told Hermione to back away, she stood her ground. He was only a professor, after all. Not too long ago, she'd faced down several of the most powerful Death Eaters and had survived a curse cast by Antonin Dolohov. An intimidating professor should be easy in comparison.

She found that that wasn't really the case. She squirmed only slightly before stopping herself as he walked right up next to her, illustrating the meaning of 'too close for comfort.' There was far too little light between them, and rather than back away, Hermione simply sidestepped him, managing to at least put an inch between them without looking like she was backing down.

When he finally did speak, his voice was the same dangerously low tone it was earlier, though the added proximity made Hermione's blood run cold. "It is not your job to tell me of my _obligations_, Miss Granger."

Utterly rigid, Hermione didn't dare take a breath until Snape turned away, heading towards his chair. "Curfew is fast approaching," he told her without looking at her. "Your doubtless need to do your homework before coming to speak with me has worked against you, so it would be in your best interests to take your leave before-"

"If you won't help me, then I'll have to make my case to the Headmaster!" Hermione blurted out. There was silence after her outburst, leaving the both of them gaping at one another in surprise. She hadn't planned to say that, hadn't thought this course of action through at all, and if Professor Snape chose to view her words as a threat, Hermione would be in unknown waters.

At length, he asked, "Do you really think that the Headmaster can force me to take on a student against my will?"

"He did it once," Hermione heard herself saying. "With Harry. And if he sees my point, he'll tell you to take me on, knowing that Occlumency isn't something one can learn properly through a book."

Snape looked at her, appearing to weigh his options. Chin held high, she maintained eye contact, as though daring him to disagree. She'd never had a reason to stand up to Snape, and she never would have thought she would have managed it. But to make sure that Harry would be able to protect his mind from any more mental assaults from Voldemort – and thus keep from inadvertently being led into another trap – she would face her fears and confront a professor, even one as terrifying as Snape.

Seating himself, Snape returned to his work and lightly told her, "Then by all means, speak with him about it. He is, after all, my occupational superior; should he give me an order, I am, as you say, _obligated_ to follow it."

Somehow, the casualness of his tone put her off even more than if he had simply insulted her and kicked her out. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore _wouldn't_ see her point, and Snape found that painfully obvious? Or perhaps they didn't want anyone but Harry learning Occlumency, as a failsafe in case they needed to go through his friends to catch him in a lie. Though she suspected that it may have well been Snape's aim, she now doubted whether or not her course of action was a sensible one.

Turning away from him, Hermione took a deep breath to ease her embarrassment before offering her farewells, but then the former Potions Master spoke up again. "And Miss Granger?" Glancing back at him, she saw that he had picked up his quill again, though his dark eyes were focused on her. "If you really find me so terrifying," he told her in a confidential voice, "then you cannot honestly expect to be any match against the Dark Lord."

Those words hung in the air for a moment as Hermione looked down and considered them. "Perhaps not," she admitted as she realized that Snape had subtly used Legilimency against her. It was frightening how skilled he must be at it if she didn't even noticed, but she suspected that such a skill often saved his life, given his status as a double agent. "That's just all the more reason to give Harry all the assistance he needs, to prepare him for the worst." Once again, Snape appeared unmoved, and so once again Hermione turned to leave.

This time, he didn't stop her.

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><p>The following day in class, Hermione was so grim that even Ron seemed to notice.<p>

Though he knew better than to say anything during Snape's class and risk detention, Ron wasted no time once class was over, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "Oi," he whispered just loudly enough to be heard over the shuffling books as students got ready to go. "What's with you? You've been in a mood ever since stepping into the classroom."

Slamming her book closed harder than was really necessary, Hermione glowered at him. "Mood?" she asked coldly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"What did I do?" Ron asked. "I mean, it couldn't have been anything _that_ bad, or else you wouldn't be talking to me at all, and I didn't do anything to tick you off between Potions class and now, so-"

"Ron, you didn't do anything," she interrupted. Shoving her books haphazardly in her bag so they could get out of this class as quickly as possible, she told him, "I'll tell you later, all right? Maybe outside, if we could-"

"Miss Granger."

Hermione froze, and she could tell that Ron did the same when that voice spoke from the front of the classroom. Looking up, she saw Snape sitting at his desk, his quill once again busily scratching at a piece of parchment. "I need to speak with you."

Feeling both Ron and Harry's eyes on her, Hermione hesitated before asking, "Right now?"

Flicking his eyes towards her, Snape dryly remarked, "It's Friday afternoon; I trust I won't be intruding on your social life in any significant way." Gaze slipping over towards Ron, he sneered, "Unless of course you have been otherwise engaged, in which case I'll thank you to be as reticent about the sordid details as possible."

She glanced toward Ron in time so see him hunch his shoulders, the tips of his ears glowing red. It looked as though he was struggling to keep an insult behind his lips lest it fly out of its own volition, and Hermione knew that he would have never bothered to do such a thing had Snape not been a professor. "I can spare a few minutes," she muttered. Looking to her friends, she said, "I'll see you both in the common room?"

"I dunno what's worse," Ron growled under his breath. "When he starts with the name calling, or when he says stuff that you _know_ is supposed to be insulting, but it doesn't sound like it is."

"I may be older than you, Mr. Weasley, but my hearing is quite intact," came the reply from the front of the room as Snape seemingly went back to writing on his parchment. "Surely your manners haven't devolved enough for you to whisper about a person sitting in the very same room as you."

"That depends on how big the room is-" Ron began, but Hermione quickly nudged him with her elbow.

"No back talk, Ron, please," she implored. "You know I'd be obligated to deduct House points for that. Now go on, wait for me in the common room. I'll be there as soon as I can."

The look Ron gave her said that he could very well give himself back any points she deigned to take away, but he was at least smart enough not to boast about abusing his role as prefect in front of the Head of Slytherin House. Instead, he just gathered up his books, following after Harry. Before she turned away from them, she saw Harry give him a firm pat on the back, mumbling something to him.

Hoping to get this over with quickly, Hermione gathered up her things and moved to the front of the class, standing in front of Snape's desk. He dutifully ignored her, scribbling away at his parchment, his long greasy hair covering his face. Trying her best not to look at either his hair or his writing, Hermione waited patiently for a few moments before asking, "You wanted to speak to me…?"

"Kindly refrain from stating the obvious, Miss Granger," Snape snapped brusquely. "It's a trait that a great deal of Gryffindors share from which I had hoped you'd been spared." Hardly giving the girl the normal amount of time to sulk at his words that he usually did, he brought up, "I presume you're familiar with the Unbreakable Vow?"

Surprised by this seemingly random question, Hermione replied, "Yes, I am. Not intimately, of course, but-"

"Of course," Snape interrupted, signing his name to the parchment with a flourish. "You're smarter than to allow one of your half-wit friends to bind you into a promise that could mean your death. Unfortunately, the Headmaster was hesitant to agree to a student making such a vow, precisely because it may ultimately lead to such a demise. A pity, really. Despite being a devastatingly typical teenage girl in many respects, I have reason to believe that you would be able to keep a secret, if your life truly depended upon it."

Hermione only grew more confused as he spoke, and the occasional backhanded compliment did little to clarify matters. It sounded as though he was saying that he'd gone to Professor Dumbledore about making her take an Unbreakable Vow, but the Headmaster had denied him. What kind of vow, and why Snape would demand it, was beyond her… at least until he turned the parchment on his desk over to her.

Picking it up, she saw that it appeared to be a contract of sorts that he'd signed as a witness, and her throat went dry as she read through it. _"I, Hermione Granger, do hereby acknowledge that I approached one Severus Snape to privately tutor me in the art of Occlumency. I did so of my own volition, and am aware that neither of us are under any obligation to continue with the lessons and both retain the right to terminate them without warning or reason. It is my most solemn vow that all of the information gleaned during these lessons – whether in direct relation to Occlumency or not – are to be regarded as secrets of the highest order. Should it be discovered that I have breathed a word to anyone, living or dead, about the events that may have transpired during these lessons and thus break the confidence between Professor Snape and I, I accept that my expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be immediate and irrevocable."_

Her shock was evident in the fact that Snape wasted no time in explaining, "While it was not necessary with Potter, it's quite evident that certain… _precautions_ need to be taken when teaching a more dedicated student Occlumency. Even Potter was once able to break through my defenses, if only for a few seconds. Though I would be _much_ more cautious before even considering allowing you to try Legilimency on me, there is a chance – however small – that you may indeed break through and see more than you are meant to see. In that event, it is up to me to decide how to react, and whatever I may decide, you are strictly _forbidden_ to give so much as a hint to anyone about what you saw or heard or experienced."

Hermione read through the agreement once more, then again, and then a final time before looking up at Snape. More than the fact that he was agreeing to tutor her, another point of the contract stuck out at her. "Expulsion? Isn't that a bit… severe?"

She was certain that there was just the slightest bit of a malicious smirk on his face, but he was able to school it down before it could even properly form. "This is war, Miss Granger," he told her levelly. "And as you are one of the few who are privy to my… unique position, Professor Dumbledore agreed that you may come across extremely sensitive information, information that could be dangerous, for you, for myself, and perhaps for everyone who aligns himself against the Dark Lord. Given the gravity of the situation, expulsion from the school grounds seemed only all too appropriate a punishment for such a lover of knowledge."

A tight, unpleasant smile crossed his face as he added, "The topic of memory alteration was also discussed, and it may interest you to know that I almost have the Headmaster swayed to that particular alternative, so it would be in your best interests to sign the contract as it stands."

Unable to believe that Professor Dumbledore would even consider allowing Snape to wipe her memory should she discover something she shouldn't, Hermione frowned down at the contract. "And should information get shared by accident?"

His words were low with only the slightest hint of menace, which worried Hermione all the more. "I don't tolerate accidents, Miss Granger." Seeing that she was still hesitant, he told her, "It's what Muggles would call a simple non-disclosure agreement, and is quite standard. I have my very valid reasons for insisting upon it, and I also have very little time to waste on indecision. Either agree to the conditions or learn Occlumency by some other means. Just make your decision quickly."

Still, Hermione hesitated. While she'd wanted Snape to teach her Occlumency and understood his need for secrecy in the event that she unintentionally came across something she wasn't meant to know (he did, after all, bear the Dark Mark, and even if he wasn't strictly a Death Eater, he likely needed to do certain things to prove otherwise), it seemed like too big of a risk. Expulsion? Did she really want to take the chance that she'd be expelled for just a slip of the tongue? What if she talked in her sleep? She didn't think she ever had before in her entire life, but what if the stress of the coming months made her pick up the habit, and Parvati or Lavender overheard something? Did Snape put some kind of charm on the parchment that would allow him to instantly know when the contract had been breached?

"You have three seconds, Miss Granger, before I withdraw my offer and give you detention for wasting my time."

She let out a huff of breath. She faced the possibility of weeks or even months in a dark, dank office with Snape, letting him rake through her memories as she tried to fend him off, and if she managed to return the favor, there stood a chance of her being kicked out of school should she tell someone of whatever horrors lay within the professor's mind. And the contract was worded in such a way that Snape could even make a case to expel her just for stating that she was learning Occlumency, which meant she would need to lie to Ron and Harry about her whereabouts. And yet, if she could manage to master it, she would be able to help protect them both from any future attack from a skilled Legilimens.

Reaching into her bag, Hermione got out her quill, dipped it into Snape's ink jar, and signed her name.


	3. A Warning Sign

"Something wrong, Hermione?"

Looking up from her Ancient Runes essay, Hermione set her bleary gaze on Harry as he inched a little closer. They were sitting on the sofa in the common room, and for a while, Harry had been content enough to read his potions book in silence. But apparently, he seemed to notice that her mind was elsewhere, leading her to smile at him a little quizzically as she asked, "Wrong? What makes you think something is wrong?"

"Well, for starters," he commented, glancing down at her parchment, "I may not know a whole lot about Ancient Runes, but it looks like you're just drawing little sideways figure eights all over your homework."

Startled, Hermione glanced down at her essay. She'd been supposed to discuss the correlation between the modern symbol for "infinity" and the runic symbol for "eternity," and it looked as though she'd just drawn line after line of the infinity sign down the length of her parchment. "Oh," she murmured, disappointed, getting out her wand to wipe away at the ink. Some of it had been written so long ago that she was still able to make out the ghosts of the writing despite her spellwork, leading her to groan out, "A perfectly good introductory paragraph, wasted."

As she cut off the unusable portion of the parchment so she could copy the introduction fresh, she could feel Harry's eyes on her, obviously concerned. She didn't need to think about it too hard to figure out why. She'd been obviously stressed lately, the only thing keeping her spirits up being the fact that Ron had agreed to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her. And now… well….

"D'you need to talk about it?" Harry asked confidentially.

"I'm fine," Hermione insisted.

"He might be my best mate, but that doesn't mean you can't-"

"I said I'm _fine_," Hermione repeated through gritted teeth, flashing Harry a look. She could see him swallowing uncertainly, clearly debating whether he should press the matter, but before he could, the painting leading into the common room slid away, and Ron stepped in.

Hermione glanced at him before she turned away, seeing that he was looking at her. Quickly turning her attention back to her essay, she felt her body tense as she sensed him approaching, already preparing to either storm out of the room or snap at him. Indeed, she almost did the former when she looked up to see him standing in front of her, looking at her with a grim expression on his face. Instead, she blurted out, "_What?_"

Her snappish tone made him wince, but he'd become too used to that and her bouts of moody silence to really be surprised. Instead, he scowled down at her and asked, "Why weren't you at the meeting?"

"What meeting?"

"The prefects' meeting," he explained, something in his eyes softening slightly when he realized that she'd forgotten. "I thought you just didn't want to be in the same room as me, but then I figured you cared more about being a prefect than about… whatever. I had to lie to everybody and say that you were sick. "

Hermione's mouth hung open before she closed it again, maintaining an apparently apathetic expression. She'd been so focused on her Occlumency lesson later that night and how she was going to pretend to be patrolling the halls as part of her prefect duties that she'd forgotten entirely about her _actual_ prefect duty. _Brilliant_.

Though she would have almost felt gratified by the concern Ron showed for her, she felt too irritated by her slip-up to be overly kind to him. "I don't recall ever forcing you to lie on my behalf, Ronald. I'll thank you to keep out of my business." She knew she was being overly nasty to him, especially given the way his face hardened and the frown she caught on Harry's face, but she really couldn't help it. She'd put too many obligations onto her plate, and Snape was wearing her down during every lesson, and Ron had abandoned her when he'd been the only bright spot in all of this. She felt moody and vindictive, and Ron was the easiest and most deserving target in the vicinity.

"Oh, don't worry," Ron muttered darkly. "I'll be keeping _way_ out of your business. Come on, Harry; let's go practice for Quidditch."

"Er," Harry started, caught off-guard, "Ron, we don't have Quidditch practice-"

"I _said_ let's go practice!"

Hermione ground her teeth as she stared down at her parchment, hearing the edge in Ron's voice. She'd known him long enough to know that Ron was on the verge of exploding, and it was clear that Harry was well aware of this, too. Seeing him cast an apologetic glance her way out of the corner of her eye, Harry got up, following after Ron as he stamped off the way he had come.

She could hear the flutter of whispers in their wake, and she flushed slightly. She knew that everyone had been talking about the whole "Lavender Brown fiasco," and a public blow-up like that was just more fuel to the never-ending fire. Glancing at her watch, she decided that it was best to get in the clear before the fire turned into an inferno, and she slowly packed up her things, making sure to give Harry and Ron enough time to gain some distance before she headed out of the portrait hole herself.

Planning out her essay in her mind was the only thing that kept her from crying in frustration as she walked.

* * *

><p>"You're early," Snape replied primly upon answering the door for her.<p>

Stepping inside the office and setting her bag down in what had become her customary corner, Hermione quietly replied, "Only by a few minutes. Should I apologize?"

"Apologies are useless," he told her, closing the door and soundlessly moving back towards his desk. "They smack of insecurity and general weakness. As neither of us have any use for either of those things, it would be a given that you are never to apologize to me, and expecting an apology from me would be pure folly. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good. Then let us begin our lesson."

Before she could even blink, Snape had his wand out, and Hermione was reeling through her own memories. She experienced her recent conversation with Ron, knew the frustration and anger and embarrassment all over again. By the time she realized what had happened, it was over, and she was panting on the floor of Snape's office and glaring up at him, pain from her fall blossoming up her backside. "What is _wrong_ with you?!"

He bore a faint expression of distaste, but other than that, appeared as unmoved as ever. Still, he did rub his temple as though feeling a migraine coming on. "Nothing, until I decided to willingly walk in on the teenage dramatics of Hogwarts' Golden Couple."

"We are _not_ a-"

"Spare me the explanations, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted. "Your personal life, such as it is, is of absolutely no import to me. But if you choose to keep your personal information _private_, then you would do well to learn to be on the defensive with every breath you take and every blink of your eye."

"Impossible," Hermione said grouchily, using the wall to help herself up to her feet, as Snape had never once offered her his hand on the numerous occasions that the sheer strength of his Legilimency has forced her to the floor. "One cannot keep up such defenses without being continually conscious of it, and as instincts override anything one may learn-"

"Then one must learn how to turn something into an instinct," Snape broke in. "Think of it in terms of survival, Miss Granger. We breathe because our bodies require oxygen. We blink because our bodies know we must protect our eyes in order to see properly. And in the event of a sudden and unknowable danger-"

At this, his wand was once again out with no warning whatsoever, and Hermione tensed up, her back crashing against the wall as she drew out her wand. Her arm was shaking visibly, and by the time she realized that she would have never even had the chance to so much as tremble if Snape had really intended to use his wand, his quiet voice concluded, "- we are overcome with an instinct that has come to be known as 'fight or flight.'"

He straightened up, then, and though Hermione was still wary and so kept her wand out, she did lower it just a little, a shield charm ready on her lips in case he tried anything. She sincerely doubted that her professor would attempt to hex her, but his expectations for her always _had_ been unfairly high, so he might just think that she was faster on the draw than she actually was. If worse came to worst, though, she was smaller and younger than him; she could probably dodge him easily.

"Curious," he murmured after a moment of silence. Hermione's suspicion that he'd been sneakily prodding about her thoughts were confirmed when he added, "You seem to maintain the rather Gryffindor urge to attempt to face off with a superior opponent, and yet, you're logical enough to know that fleeing may well be your only recourse. The latter is almost rather Slytherin of you."

Always a bit thrown when he read into her innermost thoughts, Hermione replied, "You're making it sound as though Slytherins are apt to run away rather than fight."

Barely letting her finish, Snape explained, "Slytherins know _when_ to run away rather than fight. It isn't a quality most Gryffindors share, the headstrong idiots they tend to be." Even as Hermione bristled at that, he casually added, "And for the record, Miss Granger, whatever else you might think of my expectations for you, they are _not_ unfair."

Hermione blinked, stunned that it almost seemed like he was saying something complimentary towards her. Before she could dwell on it for too long or ask after how he'd managed to pick up even the most absent of thoughts with his Legilimency, he said, "Now, your turn. Remember what I taught you last week, or I'll be forced to consider even _Potter_ a better student than you are."

Letting out a frustrated huff of air, Hermione finally straightened herself, wand at the ready. "You realize, of course," she told him, "that you have me at a disadvantage, as you know to expect my attack."

"I'm not asking you to take me by surprise," came the reply. "I'm asking that you attempt to attack me with marginal success. If you can't do that, then we may as well give up this ridiculous endeavor to make you halfway decent at-"

It was his turn to be cut off, and if Hermione were not concentrating so hard on meticulously breaking down his small cluster of mental barriers, she would have been satisfied at the sight of that surge of surprise on his face. She managed to remove the first metaphorical brick of the wall he'd put up around his thoughts, and was shocked by the amount of color in his otherwise dark and dreary mind. She got a sense of something warm, peaceful, and she fancied she heard the dim sound of children's laughter somewhere deep inside.

And then she shivered, cold to the bone as she was forcibly ripped out of his head, returning to the depressing dungeon so quickly that her head spun a little. She wondered for a moment if he'd jinxed her, but his wand was pointed downwards and she didn't seem hurt or even discomfited. There was simply such a large gap between what was and what _is_ in Snape's life that the difference was disorienting.

There was a long moment where they simply stared at one another. Hermione could only imagine her expression: a little triumphant at having made some progress, and a little frightened that she'd seen what he might consider to be "too much," leading him to renege on their agreement. _His_ expression, however… was impossible to read. And if anything, that frightened her even more. There was surprise, yes, but it was also mixed with something else. Anger? His own show of fear? What would he have to be afraid of, really?

She didn't expect an answer to her unasked questions, and she never got one; as though nothing had happened, Snape turned around, returning to his desk. "Perhaps we should work on creating mental blocks," he suggested, sitting down at his desk. "It would help keep you from being so painfully _transparent._"

"Sir," Hermione brought up, "are you-… are you angry with me?"

There was the barest upwards twitch of an eyebrow as he echoed, "Angry?"

"Because I-… because I managed to break through. Because I saw-… saw something….-"

"Miss Granger," Snape interjected, "you did not 'break through.' You barely managed to scratch the surface. While that puts you well above your peers that I've had the displeasure of teaching, keep in mind that I've only taught _one_ such peer, and that I consider him an untalented, slow-witted, disrespectful moron… and _that_ is on a good day. Catching a few seconds' worth of a vague sensation that you cannot even properly identify is _not_ a victory."

The more he spoke, the more pronounced Hermione's frown became. She'd been so sure that she'd seen something worth noting, considering how quickly he had dispelled her. But given what he'd just said….

"However," Snape brought up quietly, slowly flipping through a small notebook in which he recorded the minutes of their lessons, "it _is_ progress."

For a time, nothing could be heard except for the quiet scratching of his quill as he noted down what had just transpired. Hermione stood by awkwardly, not knowing what to say as he blocked her out while he wrote. She was well aware of how testy he could be when he was writing, and considering that she'd just heard something vaguely complimentary from him, she was in no rush to earn his ire… besides, she learned that lesson the hard way already, and Hermione Granger was not known for making the same mistake twice.

"Creating a mental block is simply another, basic way of describing the practice of Occlumency," Snape suddenly said, snapping the book shut and slowly rising to his feet. "It takes practice and discipline to be able to put up a fight against any half-decent Legilimens, but as you're obviously leagues above the other prefect of your House, I don't think you'll fail completely. Do try not to prove me wrong."

"I'll try, sir," she promised quietly.

"Good," he returned, moving towards the bookcase behind his desk. "I suppose that's all I can expect. Sit down and get out your notes. I trust you have been keeping them separate from your regular notes from the classroom and out of sight of prying eyes?"

"Yes sir," Hermione replied, picking up her bag from the floor. She winced slightly, already feeling too sore and distracted to be very useful. Snape's lessons had a tendency of running later than he'd stated, partially because they both got carried away with going into the subject in detail. Tonight, though, she was far too drained to argue and theorize and ask the wide range of questions she usually did, and so she slumped into the chair across from his desk and silently opened her small notebook to a clean page.

Apparently, this didn't go unnoticed by Snape, who peered back at her as his long fingers plucked a book free from its place upon the shelf. She could feel his eyes on her, but she decided not to look directly at him, keeping her head down and quill poised as though eager to take notes. Whether he was using his skills of Legilimency or of deduction, Snape saw right through her.

He didn't say as much, though, but Hermione judged his silence to mean that he was attempting to figure out how to proceed. Should he ignore whatever was troubling her, or should he spin it around to his advantage? She tensed a little with every second that passed, just knowing he would opt for the latter and make this more difficult for her than it necessarily had to be.

"As a sixth year, I should say you're about sixteen years old, correct?"

The question was so unexpected that Hermione couldn't help but blink as she stared up at him, trying to decipher how that was relevant. Knowing that he would make a comment if she delayed in responding, she replied, "Seventeen. My birthday was in September."

"Seventeen, then," he carried on mildly. With a dismissive wave of the book in his hand, he carried on, slowly circling the desk to approach her as he spoke. "Wizarding law may have declared you an adult, but I know perfectly well that at your age, you and your peers are subject to idiocy of the most mundane levels, if not because of your behavior then because of your… _feelings_."

He pulled a face at that last word, and if Hermione hadn't been so busy wondering just where he was going with this and how it was going to relate to the lesson, she might have almost laughed. Seeing Snape's face animated in a nearly exaggerated show of revulsion was just the tiniest bit amusing, and she couldn't help but wonder if he did so pointedly. But that would imply he was _trying _to get her to laugh, and short of wanting to give himself an excuse to snap at her, there was no reason for him to do such a thing.

"Believe it or not," he continued, stopping before her and looking squarely at her, "I was once your age, and so I myself am acquainted with the melodrama that is adolescence. I've found that there is only one way to describe it." Stooping and nearly getting in her face, he hissed out, "_Useless_."

Hermione swallowed, leaning back in her seat and hoping he wouldn't try to once again get so close to her. He seemed to feel that he'd made his point, however, and straightened up, staring down at her with a hard glint in his eyes. "All of your pining and wishing and hurting does. Not. Matter. It only serves to weaken you, distracting you with thoughts of what will never be and hopes that will never be fulfilled. As a creature of intellect, you should know very well that the average person is irrational and unreasonable, and so bogging yourself down with one such as that and hoping for a commitment with him makes you no better than he. It chips away at your one strength, and a mind such as yours is rare at your age. I won't tolerate you wasting my time when your thoughts are elsewhere."

She jumped as he held the book out to her, thinking for one wild moment that he was going to hit her with it. "Read chapter four, after which we shall have a lengthy discussion on the contents therein. If you cannot hold up your end of the conversation or focus enough to read it in a timely manner, consider yourself dismissed for the night."

Hermione didn't know if "dismissed for the night" also meant "dismissed for the foreseeable future," but she didn't want to find out. After everything else went crashing down around her, these lessons were now one of the few constants in her life, and also guaranteed her a safe haven in which she won't have to worry about unintentionally crossing paths with Ron. Or his new girlfriend. Sharing a room with her was more painful than dealing with a stern professor, and so she took a deep breath before reaching out for the book. She could do this. She could set her feelings aside long enough to pursue the knowledge she'd been seeking.

After all, if Snape could do it, so could she.


	4. Mistakes Made

"Have you been getting any sleep, Hermione?"

Hermione glanced over at Parvati Patil's reflection in the mirror before turning her attention back to adjusting her tie. "You're my roommate, Parvati," she told her quietly. "I would think that you'd know whether or not I was getting any sleep."

"Don't give me any of that," Parvati returned petulantly, glancing into the mirror on the dresser so she could fix her hair. "I go to bed late, and more often than not, you're not even in the room."

"You should know by now that I've a tendency of nodding off in the common room while studying," Hermione pointed out.

"And the other night," Parvati carried on, poking Hermione on her arm with her comb, "I couldn't sleep because I was cold, so I thought I'd go down to the common room to take one of the blankets from the sofa. You weren't there, and you weren't in bed either."

"Are you cataloging all of my movements?" Hermione asked incredulously, turning to gape at her. "Honestly, Parvati, what do you think I get up to?"

She knew she should have never asked when Parvati smirked like that. "Well, usually you're running off with Ron and Harry. But as Ron's a taken man now and the two of you haven't been getting on, well… how _is_ your relationship with Harry these days?"

Aghast, Hermione gasped, "You think I'm sneaking around with _Harry_ in the middle of the night?!"

"Is there someone else I should be accusing you of sneaking around with?" Parvati asked, all too interested as she leaned in toward her. "Because, you know, we've all seen the way Cormac McLaggen has been looking at you."

"If he's been looking at me any particular way, it's because of the way I spent the entire Christmas party avoiding him," Hermione returned dryly, focusing once again on her tie. Considering how messy it was, she couldn't really be surprised that Parvati asked after her sleeping habits as of late. She managed to refrain from making an annoyed sound as she undid the knot, starting again from scratch.

"Oh, come on now," Parvati laughed. "Do you really think I believe for a moment that you invited him to go along with you to a party, spent the whole night keeping your distance from him, and then suddenly started disappearing from your bed at nights entirely by coincidence?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione insisted, "I don't have to explain any coincidences to you, you know. As it happens, I've taken on additional prefect duties and have been getting in quite late. And even when I don't come in particularly late, I've developed a habit of taking long baths to relax."

And she would occasionally end up falling asleep in the bath, but that was no more Parvati's business than the fact that her "prefect duties" were actually lessons with Snape or that her late-night hot baths were necessary after repeatedly falling to the stone dungeon floor after being hit hard with his Legilimency. There was no point adding to the Hogwarts rumor mill, after all.

"Say what you want, but we'll get an answer out of you yet," Parvati promised, leaning in close to the mirror so that she could apply her lipstick. Hermione had no idea what the point of that was, since she was somehow able to put it on while looking up at Hermione's reflection, and speak on top of it. "You know, a little make-up would do wonders for you. Lavender uses a bit of foundation and powder, and you can hardly tell that she stays up most of her nights with Ron."

Starting, Hermione's eyes flashed in her direction before she managed to feign nonchalance, fixing up her tie at long last. "She's staying up with Ron?" she asked, voice trembling just a little too much to sound casual. "Doing what?"

"I imagine doing what most girls do with their boyfriends at night," Parvati remarked, a sly sort of smirk on her lips as she straightened up. "You should know, of course. We all remember Viktor Krum-"

"I've said a thousand times that he's only a pen friend!" Hermione blurted out quickly, turning away from the mirror to go pick up her bag. "I don't mean to sound huffy, but I really must get going. I've an Arithmancy final in an hour and would very much like to review during breakfast."

Without giving Parvati a chance to say anything else, she briskly walked out of the dorm room, once again wishing that Hogwarts offered single rooms. She doubted her parents would pay for the luxury, but it would have been a nice thing to put on her Christmas list for this year, and undoubtedly practical when one considered her circumstances. As it was, the only times she had any real privacy was when she was walking to and from classes, and that was only because she took that time to live within her head and not pay attention to the outside world.

As she made her way to the Great Hall, she was focusing so hard on remembering all of the various equations that would likely be on her Arithmancy exam that she didn't realize anyone was calling after her until Harry came right up next to her, touching her arm to get her attention. "Hey! Didn't you hear me?"

"Harry! Oh, no, I'm sorry. You wouldn't want to get too close, by the way."

"Why? Are you sick?"

"No. Apparently, people seem to think that _you're_ the reason I'm getting in so late."

"Oh." Realizing what she was talking about, he blinked and uttered, "_Oh_. Well, that's not awkward at all." Anxiously scratching at his face, he asked, "Why _are_ you getting in so late?"

"I'm busy and actually trying to live up to my responsibilities," she answered easily. "I believe I've told you that before. Do you just not believe me, or has your memory begun to falter?"

"Well, no," he replied. "It's just, y'know… when I'm looking for you, I can never find you at your usual places, like the library and, er… well, the library. I know that things are tough with you and Ron right now, but I'd hope you wouldn't go so far as to avoid me just so you won't have to put up with him."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured apologetically. "No, no, of course not. I've just had a lot on my mind lately. I haven't forgotten about you, honest. I even have a Christmas present all sorted for you. You should be getting it via owl on Christmas Day."

"I'm not really in it for the presents, Hermione," Harry returned sheepishly. "But thank you. Um. I just wanted to know… Ginny's made it clear that the Weasleys are always going to invite you into their home, yeah? Ron's being a bit of a berk these days, but he doesn't mean to be, and I don't want you to have turned down an invitation to spend the holidays with them just because of him."

"I've dealt with his cloudier moods, Harry," she told him as they stepped into the Great Hall. "No, for your information, I thought I'd spend a nice quiet holiday with my parents. They might decide at the last minute to jet off somewhere, but it would be nice to actually be there if they do, so they can take me along with them this time." Shrugging a little, she added, "I haven't been spending much time with them, and with all of the things I've been reading in the _Prophet_ lately, well…."

"I understand," Harry replied when she trailed off. The both of them sat down at the Gryffindor table, and he immediately poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "And that's fine. Great, even. I just know that the lot of them would have been disappointed if you hadn't shown up to Christmas because you were angry. "

"Thank you," she told him. Grabbing a piece of toast, she looked about the table for some marmalade as she struggled to change the subject. "So… speaking of Ginny-"

She meant to rib at him just a little; it was painfully obvious even to her that he was paying more and more attention to Ginny, and so what better way to shift the topic than to focus on _him_ for a bit? It had worked wonders in the past, but before she could take advantage of that situation, she felt someone tap her shoulder.

Turning around, she saw a small, dark-haired boy wearing a Slytherin crest looking at her curiously. "'scuse me, miss," he said in a voice so high that it was more than obvious he was but a first- year. "You Miss Granger?"

Moving to face him more fully, she frowned a little and replied, "Yes."

Looking a bit relieved, the boy reached into his robes and pulled out a note. "Professor Snape told me to give this to you. He needs you to read it before the next lesson, but as I don't know when you have class with him…." He shrugged his slim shoulders, remarking, "I'm just glad not a lot of Gryffindor girls met the description of you he gave me."

"Brilliant, thanks a lot," Harry told him. Hermione looked at him to see that he was frowning. It was clear that he didn't think any description Snape would give of her would be particularly complimentary. "Snape should be able to hand off his _own_ messages, but we appreciate it anyway."

The boy gave Harry a bland sort of look before huffing carelessly, turning on his heels to head back to the Slytherin table. "I'd _love_ to hear what kind of description that toad came up with," Harry hissed out. Glancing at the envelope in Hermione's hand, he added, "Or what was so important that he couldn't wait until the next Defense class."

Distracted by the fact that Snape would write a note for her, Hermione broke the wax sealing the envelope, pulling out a small piece of paper within. She hoped that Harry wouldn't lean in to read it over her shoulder, as she was positive that the lesson it would reference had nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts. There wasn't much to it, and she was only glad that she wasn't at an angle where anyone could read it. _Canceled. We shall resume after the holidays. –S.S._

Unable to hide her disappointment, Hermione let out a small, "Oh," as she re-read the note, frowning as she slipped it back into the envelope. She'd been looking forward to one more session before going off on holiday break, wanting it all to remain fresh in her mind.

"What is it?" Harry asked, sipping at his pumpkin juice, apparently to hide his suspicion.

"No, it's just…." Wracking her brain for a quick and easy explanation, Hermione eventually came up with, "He felt the need to tell me that my last essay was severely lacking and I'll need to do much better than that to pass the final exam."

Harry stared at her blankly for a few moments, leading her to wonder if her words made the slightest bit of sense. She began to panic when he shook his head and looked away, but given his mutter of, "That _git_," she'd done well enough to cover herself.

Now all that remained was to figure out why Snape would cancel on her.

* * *

><p>The only way to find something out for certain was to approach things head-on.<p>

After her Arithmancy final, Hermione gathered up her things and took advantage of the fact that none of her friends had Arithmancy with her, allowing her to head for the dungeons rather than back to the Gryffindor common room. She hoped that Snape was only feeling under the weather, though to her knowledge, he had never missed any of his lessons, even while injured or under extreme duress. He may not count his private lessons the same, but it still struck her as something worth looking into.

At his door, she listened to make sure she couldn't hear the sound of any students within before knocking. She waited a few moments, but she couldn't even detect the sound of shuffling papers from within, and so frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. When a third round of knocking yielded no results, she unthinkingly wrapped her hand around the doorknob, giving it a twist.

"Is there some reason you're attempting to break into my office, Miss Granger?"

Hermione froze at the sound of Snape's voice coming from so close behind her, considering that she hadn't heard him approach. Dropping her hand away from the doorknob, she spun around, managing not to stammer as she saw him step out of the shadows, the torchlight doing his grim, angular face absolutely no favors.

"I-… I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't trying to break in," she insisted. "I had assumed it would be locked if you weren't in there, so I was just… making sure you weren't there."

As she realized how weak of an excuse that was, Snape glared down at her, the corners of his lips twitching down into a scowl. "My office is always locked, whether or not I am in it," he replied loftily. "One does not enter without my express permission. _You_, Miss Granger, did _not_ have my permission to attempt to gain entry. And so I will ask you again: why were you attempting to get into my office?"

"I wasn't thinking-"

"Obviously," he sneered.

Frowning at that, Hermione looked away, in part because she didn't trust that he wouldn't abuse the eye contact and also because she wanted to be sure they were alone before she continued further. "I only wanted to know, sir, if there was some reason you canceled tomorrow's lesson. I've been practicing very hard, in between studying for my proper exams."

Eying her for a moment, Snape brought up, "Just when was that message delivered to you?"

"This morning, at breakfast."

"Were others in the vicinity?"

"Well," she brought up, "the usual people were milling about, and I was sitting with Harry. But he didn't read it, if that's what you're implying. I've kept up my end of the bargain, in regards to secrecy."

"Gloating about your ability to keep secrets while standing in the middle of a public corridor is hardly a sign of your intelligence, Miss Granger," Snape groused. With a wave of his hand, the door to his office opened, and he impatiently waved her inside. Once they were both in, he shut the door behind him, telling her, "Now, I'm quite aware that you haven't broken your contract, as the instantaneous result of such a breach would have had some very colorful effects. Let us say that it will make what you did to Miss Edgecombe's face during the Dumbledore's Army fiasco last year seem like a kindness."

Blushing a bit at the reference to one of the few hexes she'd ever actually carried out against a fellow student, Hermione couldn't even muster up a response before he continued. "I assume Potter asked after the note?"

"He did."

"And what did you say?"

Needing a moment to remember her response, Hermione replied, "I told him that you found my last essay lacking and expressed that I would need to do better than that to pass the final exam."

Seemingly surprised, he asked, "And he believed you?"

"Of course," she replied. "He even had a retort, but if it's all the same, I'd rather not repeat it to your face." Much to her surprise, his expression softened marginally at that. It wasn't so much that he smiled as it was that his frown had straightened out into something more neutral.

"I would have never thought you'd be capable of telling a convincing lie," Snape told her, stepping past her to move to his desk. Sitting down, he reached into his drawer and took out the small black notebook he consistently used for their Occlumency lessons, causing Hermione to widen her eyes as a gnawing suspicion began to emerge.

"I've been forced to lie about my whereabouts and such for the past couple of months," she pointed out, and the words were hardly out of her mouth before Snape jumped in, busily scratching away at a page near the end of the notebook with his quill.

"Yes, but your idea of a lie has been the absence of the truth. You haven't had to fabricate something out of the ether, especially not to someone who knows you as well as your best friend, and especially not without any prior knowledge that a lie would be necessary. You improvised, Miss Granger. You will find that there may come a time when avoiding the truth is not as important as replacing it."

"This was a _test_?!" Hermione blurted out incredulously. "You-… you purposely sent a student over to me when I was with Harry, knowing he would say the message was from you and that Harry would ask after it, and that I would be forced to lie? What if I couldn't come up with anything convincing? What if Harry saw through me?"

"Then I suppose he would have been on the verge of learning about our private lessons," Snape returned nonchalantly. This time, as he looked up at her and shut his notebook, he really _was_ smiling, albeit faintly.

"If he'd found out, I could have been _expelled_!"

"It's good to see that you still have the larger picture in perspective," he replied, clearly not caring at all about her potential expulsion, nor about the fact that _he_ nearly sabotaged her and could have caused said expulsion.

"You did this on purpose," Hermione realized, feeling a little sick to her stomach. "You just said that you never would have believed me capable of telling a lie, and yet you posed a surprise 'test' that forced me to do that very thing. You _expected_ me to fail!"

"I expected you to do what was necessary," Snape responded, rising to his feet, "even if it were something you had previously considered impossible. Lying convincingly is just the tip of the iceberg, Miss Granger, and be very thankful that I am only contracted to teach you Occlumency. The war calls for so much more than a skilled liar, but even I wouldn't expect a student to do half of it unless it becomes explicitly necessary. You passed this test. Be grateful for that."

Hermione didn't know what he meant by that, didn't know what she could possibly learn that would exceed even Snape's expectations. She knew this was war, and war often required grisly things, but she chose to ignore that in light of the facts. Either Snape wanted her expelled from school, or he had really trusted that she had learned enough to tell a convincing lie to even her closest friend.

"Now then," he remarked once he saw that his point had been made, "as you will soon be off to enjoy your holidays with your family, we should squeeze in another session on top of the one tomorrow that is most assuredly _not_ canceled. Assuming you've no other final examinations you need to take today, of course."

Though she would much rather review for tomorrow's exams, Hermione conceded to sit at her regular seat and begin an impromptu lesson.


End file.
